


The Prisoner

by Sasha Mittens Wayblight (toadcatcher)



Category: Amphibia (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28851192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toadcatcher/pseuds/Sasha%20Mittens%20Wayblight
Summary: Marcy questions a dangerous criminal.
Relationships: Sasha Waybright & Marcy Wu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	The Prisoner

“Your Majesty, please, I’m asking you for one chance.”

“I’ll say it once more: she is a dangerous individual. You read General Yunnan’s report.”

“I know that, but—but I also know her. Maybe she’ll, I don’t know, open up to me?”

“Based on my understanding, I don’t get the impression that she is the type of person to ‘open up.’”

“She isn’t, no. She never was. I still have to try.”

“If you insist on this hopeless interrogation—”

“I do.”

“You have five minutes.”

* * *

The prisoner sat on the other side of the scuffed wooden table, her hands restrained behind her back. Her blonde hair, usually neatly held in place, was loose, hanging down in runners that covered half of her face. She was glaring at the table, and her breathing was just heavy enough to betray the fact that she was nervous.

“It’s good to see you, Sasha,” said Marcy. “That’s what I wish I could say.”

Sasha said nothing. She let an audible breath out of her nose.

“This isn’t you. You’re in over your head.”

Nothing.

“What are you doing working with someone like Captain Grime? You know he's a criminal. A traitor, even. Is he claiming to be your friend?”

Sasha pursed her lips. Her brow furrowed. Still nothing.

“Sasha. You’re one of my best friends. I want to help you. But you have to let me. Will you let me help you?”

Sasha shook her head. She hadn’t even looked up from the table.

Marcy sighed. The guards told her she wasn’t talking. Luckily, she had a few other tactics to try.

“Anne was here,” she said.

Sasha looked up at last, meeting Marcy’s eyes. Marcy shifted her gaze to the left. She never was good at eye contact. Especially with Sasha.

“How is she?” Sasha said.

Marcy sat up straighter.

“She finally speaks,” she said. If these words were spoken by anyone else, they might have been sarcastic or pointed. But Marcy meant them like she meant everything else. She was genuinely glad to hear Sasha’s voice. “Anne is… good. She’s doing really well, actually. She seems happy. Maybe, um—” Marcy hesitated on this next thought, and then followed through. “Maybe happier than I’ve ever seen her.”

“Of course she is,” Sasha said, nodding. She didn’t seem surprised—in fact, she seemed to have been anticipating this exact answer. She was also tensing up, like it hurt to hear. Like how a needle stings even when you’re expecting it.

“She told me you saw each other,” Marcy said. “Sasha, what happened between you two?”

“We got in a fight.”

Marcy’s eyes traced their way back to the scar on Sasha’s cheek. She’d noticed it before, but now she was making a connection. Anne hadn’t told her everything. Sasha wasn’t going to either.

Fine. Marcy fiddled with the crossbow on her arm, and her gaze trailed away from Sasha.

“She wants to help you too,” Marcy said. “You know that big dumb heart of hers.”

She cracked a joyless smile. Back home, it was usually Sasha who tried to lighten the mood. All things considered, Marcy wasn’t very good at it. Sasha’s stare flitted to the wall behind Marcy, and then back to the table.

Marcy thought about how much Sasha had changed in such little time. She still knew her, though, and she knew this look. Sasha was usually loud and playful, but occasionally, she could get pensive. When they would spend time together, sometimes late at night, Sasha would get so quiet. She would stare off into the distance, or look at a fixed point on the floor, looking like she was seeing something no one else could. Something that made her feel small and empty.

I’ve missed her so much, Marcy thought.

After a second, Sasha tilted her head back up. Her eyes were narrowed.

“Anne isn’t dumb.”

Marcy winced then. Her hand moved up her right arm, stopping on her elbow, squeezing it a bit.

“I—I know that,” Marcy muttered. “That’s not what I meant.”

Sasha gave her shoulders a slight shrug. Marcy wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.

After a shallow sigh, Marcy planted her palms flat on the table. She clenched them up into fists, and then sprawled them out again. She repeated this motion several times while thinking of her next statement. Finally,

“Look, Sasha,” she said, “I know you don’t like me—”

“That isn’t true,” Sasha snapped.

“I know you don’t like me as much as you like Anne,” Marcy finished.

Sasha took in a breath to speak, but then let it back out slowly. She closed her eyes. Marcy thought she saw the corner of her mouth twitching, though it could have been her imagination.

“That’s okay,” Marcy said. “I don’t like you as much as I like Anne either.”

This wasn’t true. Marcy loved both of them with her entire heart. Or whatever else it was she was supposed to love with. Her brain.

Of course she didn’t want to lie. But keeping Sasha’s attention was more important right now, and talking about Anne seemed to be doing the trick so far.

“And I mean, Anne’s always liked you more, right?” she said, folding her arms near her stomach. For all she knew, that part was true. “You can make her happy if—if you let us help you. But no one can help you if you won’t talk, Sasha.”

A small murmur escaped Sasha’s throat. She seemed to be thinking of something. Whatever the thought was, it didn’t take her very long.

“Whatever,” she said.

Marcy gritted her teeth, and then there was a knock at the door. A lanky green newt poked his head into the room.

“Lady Marcy,” he said, “your time.”

“A moment, Private Laramie,” Marcy said, glancing at him. She trained her gaze back on Sasha. “We were just wrapping up.”

Laramie nodded and left them alone again.

Marcy stood. Sasha did not react, even when Marcy walked around behind her, reaching into her satchel.

Sasha flinched as Marcy ran one hand through her hair. She never did like anyone touching her hair. Still, she said nothing as Marcy swept Sasha’s locks away from her face, gathering them up behind her. She wasn’t gentle, but neither of them really were. She pulled the gathered hair through a small purple hair tie, twisting it once.

“The guards told me you dropped this,” Marcy said, pulling Sasha’s hair through the tie once more.

She let go of Sasha’s ponytail. After that, Marcy didn’t wait for a response. The door clicked shut behind her.

Sasha’s breathing was slower now.

In.

Out.

She lifted her head up to face the wall across from her.

“Thanks,” she said to no one.


End file.
